The Calm Before the Storm
by R.K. Cloud
Summary: Sam and John are butting heads again. And to make things worse, the three Winchesters are involved in a car accident and stranded in the middle of nowhere. Pre-series. Updated after a year! And still not complete...
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

Chapter 1

The roads outside were slick with winter rain and melted snow. The night was cold and dark; not even the moon shone through the dark gray clouds. The night air was still and quiet, signifying the calm before the storm.

Dean Winchester was thankful for the peace. Like the weather outside, the inside of the Impala was quiet, a change from mere minutes ago when his father and Sammy were, once again, shouting, engaging in a battle that neither could win. His dad was driving, focused intently on the road in front of him, with the unmistakable look of anger painted on his face. Sammy, sitting next to him in the back, arms crossed over his chest, had the same look. They looked so _alike_ that Dean had to roll his eyes and hide the grin on his face.

After a few minutes, when neither his dad nor his brother gave into the silence, Dean sighed and looked out of the window. As they passed a big green sign, he read, 'Fortville, 360 miles.' _Great_. Another few hours of driving. Normally his dad would get them there in no time, speed limits be damned, but tonight was different. Tonight, in the stormy winter weather, one wrong move behind the wheel could be fatal.

"So, which one of you is gonna cave first," Dean asked finally, tired of the silence. When nobody answered, he looked to his little brother. "I don't know, dad. Usually you're the king of stubbornness, but I think Sammy's gonna give you a run for your money. I mean, look at him with his arms crossed. I swear he's as pouty as a chick sometimes."

His comment earned him an angry glare from his brother. "Shut up, Dean," Sam said, his voice laced with anger and annoyance.

Dean was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, "Sorry, Samantha."

Apparently Dean's attempt to lighten the mood had not worked, when Sammy retorted with, "At least I have the guts to stand up to dad."

"Come on, Sam, lighten up," he replied.

"No, Dean. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of his attitude," Sammy said, his voice rising, though Dean had heard nearly the exact words numerous times. "You can't really believe he's doing what's best for us by making us come here."

"Sam-"

"I don't want to hear another word from either of you," Dean was cut off by John's angry voice. "I need to concentrate on the road," he said, in a more calm voice.

"Sorry Sir," Dean replied. Both boys were quiet now. Dean glared at his brother. He couldn't really blame Sam for being upset. After all, he had a life where they lived too. But he thought Sam would be used to it by now; having to move all of the time, having to leave behind everything they'd gained in their short time of residency. It wasn't fair.

But then Dean thought of his dad again. He couldn't really blame him either. After all, he was a hero; always battling the evil things that lurked in the dark. And it was pretty hard to do that if you had to stay in one place. Dean figured that was only half the reason his dad and Sam always butted heads. The other half was the chosen life for him. Ever since Dean could remember, he wanted to be a hunter like his dad; wanted to please him. He was elated the first time he was allowed to go hunting with him. But Sam; Sam was different. He didn't want this life and he didn't have to say it; anyone who spent just a few minutes with him could tell that he had plans of his own. He was a smart kid and part of Dean wanted him to pursue his own life. He wanted his little brother to have everything that he wanted. But he also knew what kind of danger was out there. And how would he be able to protect him is he wasn't around? Unfortunately, Sam didn't see it that way and their dad would refuse to explain it such a manner.

And there was the problem. Sam wasn't arguing with their dad because they were moving. They were never really yelling about the trivial things that they seemed to be yelling about. They were fighting because of what Sam wanted- of different life. And they all knew, deep down inside, that soon, there would be a storm. The fight that would end all of their fights. They were still experiencing the calm before the storm.

After a few minutes of thought, Dean whispered to Sam, "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry we have to move again. I know you had friends and everything and you were doing well in school."

"It's not your fault Dean. You shouldn't have to apologize for him," Sam replied. He looked towards Dean and smiled. "But thanks."

"No problem, Samantha."

And now Dean could rest easy, knowing that, at least for now, the storm was over.

-------------------------------

Sam didn't know when he'd drifted off to sleep. He awoke to the sound of falling rain. He opened his eyes, but could see nothing but a thick fog illuminated by the Impala's headlights. He couldn't help but think of how much it just plain _sucked_ that he had to be out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees, rain, and fog, when he could be at home, reading a book or hanging out with his friends.

"Dad?" He heard Dean's voice. "Where are you going?"

"I must've missed the turnoff in the fog. We need to find a place to stop for awhile. The weather's too bad to drive in."

"What?" Sam asked, just waking up from his sleep. "But you promised we'd get there tonight."

"Sam, the weather is just too bad. It's raining and I can't see more than a few feet in front of me."

It was true. The weather _was_ bad. Sam knew that they really shouldn't be driving in this weather. But if they had left earlier like he had suggested…. "This never would have happened if you'd just listened to me for once."

"Sam-"

"I told you we should have left earlier, but like always you-"

"Sam, I don't need to hear it right now. I am your father. You listen to what I say and you follow my orders," John replied, a little too loudly, and a little too angrily.

"Well, this pretty much proves your orders aren't always cracked up to what they're supposed to be."

Sam knew, before he saw the look on his dad's face, before he heard the sigh that Dean let out, that he had said the wrong thing.

"I am sick and tired of your constant disregard for-"

"Dad!" Dean yelled as the car swerved suddenly, heading off the road, and straight toward a small ditch filled with trees and snow.

The weather outside was no longer calm, though the three Winchesters inside of the car were unmoving; silent.

…TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

**A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews. They really got me motivated to write this chapter. Enjoy!**

Chapter 2

It was cold. He was surrounded by snow, more of it gently falling from the sky. How did he get outside? Wasn't he- oh god. He was driving the Impala. There was yelling; bad weather. The car started to slide. And then nothing.

John reached up to his head and felt a lump where he'd most likely hit his head. This wasn't good.

As the mental cobwebs began to clear up, John remembered the most important thing- his boys. _No. _They were in the car with him. Everything was becoming clearer now. He turned around as much as his body would allow and the sight he saw caused his heart to skip a beat. Lying there, in a tangle of limbs, were Sammy and Dean, bloodied and broken.

"Sam! Dean!" He said, trying to get there attention. Neither boy stirred. He didn't even know if they were breathing.

"Come on boy, wake up!" He said, louder this time. After a moment, Sam stirred, though he did not wake. _Thank God._ John looked at his youngest son. Sam laid there, head against the back of the seat. The side of his head was caked in blood, starting at his hairline, the crimson liquid flowing freely down.

Assured at least that Sam was alive, John looked towards Dean, who had still yet to move. His oldest son looked in just as bad shape as Sam. He lay there with his head down, chin to chest. "Dean, come on son, wake up," he said, hoping even for a small reaction as he had seen from Sam. "Dean!" Still nothing.

John looked around him and for the first time, noticed the extent of the damage. The scene was brightly illuminated by the light from the moon that shone through the dark gray clouds. The Impala was crushed and even from the inside, John could tell that it had been reduced to nothing but a metal heap. The front was wrapped around a tree. The snow on the ground came up nearly to the windows, two of which were smashed in, allowing them to be exposed to the harsh weather outside. He had to get out of here; get to his sons; get them help.

John grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, trying to open the door. As he expected, the door did not budge. He pushed on it, pulled on it, tried everything he could, but it was useless. The car was too damaged and the snow was too high. There was no way they were getting out of the car on their own.

This was all his fault. He knew the weather was too bad to be driving in. He shouldn't have been arguing with Sam _again_. If he had been paying attention to what he was doing, had focused more on getting them out of this godforsaken storm, they wouldn't be stuck in a ditch, half way buried in snow. Sam wouldn't be lying there with a head wound and he would be certain that Dean was even alive. And now that he had gotten them into this mess, there was no way to get them out.

But anyone who knew John Winchester knew that defeat did not sit well with him, especially when it came to the well being of his sons. In his frustration and determination to get the hell out of the car, John pushed as hard as he could on the door. He slammed the side of his arm as hard as he could into it, willing the door to open, but the result was the same as before. "Damn it!" he yelled as his head began to spin, his body protesting the extra movement.

Suddenly the light from the moon began to fade away and as John closed his eyes, everything went dark once again.

-------------------------------

Sam didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. Not a whole lot made sense the moment. He'd woken up a minute before and _god_ it was cold. It was raining. Not only could he hear the rain, but he could _feel_ it. He looked up slightly and saw a broken window next to his head. And that's when he remembered the accident.

Suddenly panicked, Sam lifted his head, only to feel a shooting pain. That couldn't be good. He put his hand to his head and found the source of the pain as he pulled back a bloody hand. He _hurt_ all over. He tried to sit up, to get a good look around him. Slowly but surely, he pulled himself up.

Sam saw his dad in the front, unmoving. Then he turned to Dean. His brother laid there, head limp, looking too still and too broken for his own comfort. "Dean," Sam said, his voice quiet. He reached out to Dean, the movement causing a spiral of pain to shoot through him. He laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, and shook lightly. "Dean, wake up." When he didn't move, Sam began to worry. What if Dean and his dad were…

_No._ He wouldn't let himself think that way. They would be fine. "Dad," he said, more loudly this time. He reached out and placed a hand on his father's shoulder. The man beneath his hand began to stir. "Sammy?" He whispered.

"Dad! Dad, the car's wrecked." Sam said, thankful that his father was alive. "Dean's not waking up," he said, worry lacing his voice.

"Are you ok? Is he breathing?" His dad's voice sounded too worried.

"I'm ok." Sam slowly began to scoot himself towards Dean. Once he was close enough, he put an arm around his brother and pulled him slowly towards him so that his head rested against Sam's shoulder. Now he could see the rise and fall of Dean's chest, though his breathing was ragged. From this close, Dean looked even worse. Seeing his brother like this, Sam couldn't help but think that this was his fault. He was the one arguing with his dad. If he hadn't been so stubborn, Dean would be awake right now.

"He's having a hard time breathing," Sam told his dad, turning away from his thoughts and focusing on his brother. He put his hand on Dean's neck. "And his pulse is kind of fast."

"Damn it," his dad whispered. "Where are you hurt Sam?"

"My head," Sam replied. "And my arm's busted."

"Is there anyway you can get out of the car?"

Sam looked towards the door and through the window could see how high the snow came up. He let his brother's head rest against the back of the seat and tried opening the door. As he expected, it was no use.

"What are we gonna do?" he asked, beginning to worry.

"We're just gonna have to wait until somebody drives by," was his father's only answer.

"Dad, we're in the middle of nowhere," Sam said, becoming increasingly distraught. He looked at his brother who still lay there, broken, and couldn't help the wave of emotion that overtook him. He was angry at his dad; angry that he couldn't do anything to get them out of here. He wanted to tell his dad just how angry he was, but the words that came out of his mouth instead surprised even him. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

Sam heard his dad sigh. "Sammy, it's not your fault. The weather was bad; it's dark out. If there's anyone to blame, it's me." He paused, putting a hand on his head in frustration. "Try to wake Dean up again."

Sam looked towards his brother again and said, "Come on Dean, nap time's over." He shook him. "Dean! Wake up."

And as though he were following one of their father's orders, Dean slowly opened his eyes, moaning as he did so. He lifted his head to look around and saw his brother, sitting next to him, with a worried look on his face.

"Dude, that's a scary thing to wake up to," Dean said, his voice weak.

"What?" Sam asked, able to breathe more easily now that his brother was awake.

"Your face."

"Shut up Dean," Sam said with a grin on his face. "You're hurt."

Dean frowned as he looked at his brother and then at his dad. Wincing in pain, he tried to sit up straighter, but Sam held him down. "So are you. What the hell happened? Are you ok?"

"The Impala's wrecked Dean. Now, tell me where you're hurt," their dad said.

"M' fine," was the typical Dean answer.

"No, you're not son. You were just unconscious for half an hour. Sam said you were having a hard time breathing. Now tell me what hurts."

Sam saw the look on Dean's face. It was a look of hurt. But of course, Sam knew, Dean would try to hide it.

"My ankle hurts a little," he finally answered, looking down at his leg, which was caught between the seat and the part of the car that smashed in. He then let out a painful sounding cough. "My chest hurts like a bitch though."

"You might have some bruised ribs," their dad diagnosed.

"You think?" Dean said sarcastically, trying to add levity to the situation. "And why the hell is it so cold?"

"In case you haven't noticed, it's winter and there's been a storm outside. Plus the window's busted in," Sam answered, gesturing to the open window.

He couldn't help but notice how his brother was shivering. "Yeah, well-"Dean was cut off by a loud noise as the car moved slightly, as though something had run into it."

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, slightly shocked.

The car moved again and the sound of something crashing against metal rang through the car.

Again, it hit. "Dad?" Sam asked.

After a moment, everything was silent again.

"Probably just a coyote," was John's answer. But John knew the truth. It wasn't a coyote. It wasn't even an animal. It was what he came here to hunt.

-------------------------------

"_Sam, I don't need to hear it right now. I am your father. You listen to what I say and you follow my orders." _

_There was something wrong. John turned cold; felt the creature's presence. No. It couldn't be. These things were supposed to live deep in the woods. They didn't come up to the roads._

"_Well, this pretty much proves your orders aren't always cracked up to what they're supposed to be."_

_If it the creature was close, they would be in danger. He didn't have time to argue with Sam._

"_I am sick and tired of your constant disregard for-"_

_There it was; the black dog. Time seemed to stop as John looked into its deep, black eyes. _

"_Dad!" He heard Dean yell as the car began to swerve. The creature disappeared and then everything went black._

-------------------------------

John knew the truth. Sam and Dean were hurt; probably badly enough to need a hospital. They were trapped in the god damn car. And now they were being hunted by the thing _he_ had come to hunt.

* * *

TBC… 


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed that I didn't get a chance to reply to. I really appreciate every single one. Also, sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I really have no excuse except that this is a busy time of year. Lame excuse, I know. **

* * *

Chapter 3

Surprisingly, his father and Sammy hadn't argued yet. For that Dean was thankful. He had expected Sam to blame their dad for wrecking the car. Then their dad would say that it was Sam's complete disregard for his orders that got them into this mess. But there was no fighting. Only peace. _At least for now_, Dean thought.

He hurt all over. It wasn't just an aching pain, like the kind he got from a normal day of hunting. It was different. It was a piercing pain that ran from his chest down. He knew he should have told his dad. But what good would that do? All it would accomplish would be making Sammy and his dad worry and eventually that worry would turn into an argument.

"Dad, your plan for getting out of here blows," Dean told his father, grinning.

"There is no plan, Dean," he replied. "We're just gonna have to wait until someone comes by."

"Like I said- your plan blows."

John didn't reply. Though it was just Dean's way at attempting to add humor to the situation, it was true. He had no plan. And that scared him. "You two get some rest, ok?"

John expected to hear protest, but apparently the boys' exhaustion was greater than their need to not be coddled over. Both Sam and Dean eventually closed their eyes, falling asleep.

-------------------------

John was worried. He needed to get his boys out of the damn car and to a hospital. Normally he avoided hospitals, but this situation was different. Sam had a bad head wound, no doubt a concussion. Dean was in bad shape too and if he knew his son, he was probably hiding the severity of his injuries.

The cold was taking its toll on them, too. Both boys were shivering, despite the heavy jackets that both of them wore. Needless to say, the car wouldn't turn on, so it would not be any source of heat.

John looked outside and saw snow beginning to float gently to the earth below. That wasn't good. It would only make their situation worse.

He brought his thoughts back to the Black Dog. These weren't creatures to mess around with. They were quick, devious creatures who could kill with a single bite. John had done the research. Black dogs were malicious phantom dogs that would tear a human apart if given the chance. Every report he'd gotten had shown some poor, ignorant person mauled by the creatures. He knew that he should probably tell Sam and Dean. That way they could look out for the one that he'd seen; the one that caused them to be in this mess. But as he looked back and the two sleeping boys, he couldn't bring himself to make them worry, especially with the physical state that they were in.

In the back, Sam stirred, waking up. "Hey Sammy," John said quietly.

"Dad?" Sam asked, looking disoriented. He put one hand to his head, and cradled the other near his chest.

"How're your feeling?"

"Like I was in a car wreck," Sam replied, looking towards his brother. "Dad, Dean's not doing too well."

John turned around, much to his aching body's protest, and looked at his oldest son. Sammy was right. Dean wasn't doing well. Though it was freezing, the boy was shivering more than he should be. He held his arms close to his ribs and his breathing was coming out in short, uneven, ragged breaths.

"Here, take this and wrap it around the both of you," John said, slipping off his jacket, the cold air chilling his skin further.

"No, you need it," Sam told his dad.

"You two are in worse condition then I am. You need it more. I'll be fine."

Sam glanced at Dean again and made no more steps towards arguing as he took the jacket from his dad. John watched as Sam pulled his brother close, wrapping the jacket around him only. John glanced at him.

"I'm fine," Sam said, holding his shivering brother in his arms. "He needs it more."

John didn't miss the look of guilt on his son's face. He sighed. "Sam, we talked about this. This isn't your fault."

Sam said nothing, just frowned and looked down at Dean.

John didn't want to say anything about the black dog. He didn't want to worry Sam. But he couldn't let his son go on thinking that he had caused them to be in this situation; that he had caused his brother to be so badly hurt. "Sam, look, while I was driving-"

John was cut off by a moan from Dean, as he the boy stirred and tried to move.

"Easy Dean," Sam said, trying to steady his brother.

Dean groaned again as he blinked confusedly. "Where are we?"

John was really worried now. "We were in a car wreck, remember son?"

Dean looked around, his shivering from the cold more obvious now that he was awake. "Oh. Right," he said, as the fog apparently cleared from his head. "I'm guessing this means you _still _haven't gotten us out of here," he said, grinning slightly, hiding the etches of pain on his face.

John appreciated Dean's attempt to lighten the situation. He knew that he could always count on his son to crack some kind of joke, no matter how inappropriate a time it was.

"How are you feeling," John asked.

"I'm okay," was the expected reply. He let out a painful sounding cough. "Cold."

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam spoke up, worry lacing his words.

Dean looked up, realizing for the first time it seemed, that Sam was clutching onto him. "Sam…you have nothing to be sorry for… you idiot," he said, pausing between words to take short breaths. "You think you can control… something like this? And why are you hugging me… like some girl?"

"It's cold out Dean, we both need to stay warm," Sam replied. "And I'm sorry because it's my fault the car's wrecked. If I wasn't arguing with dad…"

It was then that John heard something outside. Something that caused him to turn cold, colder than the harsh weather was causing him to be.

"Sam, trust me, this isn't…" Dean stopped speaking as John put a hand up to silence them. Both boys looked at him, confused, as John listened.

All three could hear the faint growl in the silence. "Dad, what the hell is that?" Dean whispered.

"That doesn't sound like a coyote," Sam said, a little louder.

John listened again as the sound became louder, sounding more angry with each passing moment.

The growling outside stopped for a brief moment as a dark shadow cast by the moonlight ran quickly past the trees in front of them, away from the car.

John let out a sigh of relief. "What was it?" Sam asked more seriously.

John decided he couldn't hide it from them any longer. If this thing was after them then Sam and Dean would need to know what it was if they had any chance at protecting themselves.

"I guess you should know the truth," John began, pausing, not liking what he was about to say. "Right before the car swerved I saw a black dog. That's the reason we were heading this way."

"A black dog?" Dean asked. "Like a demonic mutt?"

"Yeah," John continued. "There've been several reported deaths of hikers. All of them mangled. At first I thought it might just be a bear. Until I got a hold of one of the official reports and saw the claw marks on the bodies. If I can track down this one I can find its den and get rid of all of them."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked, his voice angry.

John sighed, knowing what was about to come. "It was new information. That's why we left so fast. Besides, you were too busy arguing to let me get two words in."

"You should've told us. We could have been on the lookout."

"Black dogs don't generally come close to a road. They're almost always deep in the forest," John explained, beginning to loose his patience. "Besides, you wouldn't have been able to see anything in this weather."

"We could've avoided being stuck here in the damn car, buried in snow!" Sam was almost yelling now.

"Sam, come on… now's not the time," Dean said quietly.

John had lost any trace of calm and patience now. He was cold and tired and just wanted to get out of this god damned car. "Sam if I hear one more word from you-"

_Crash._

Suddenly, John saw himself facing the black dog. It had jumped into the car, bearing its shining teeth in its monstrous jaws. It stood there in the passenger side of the front seat, unmoving, just growling, producing a sound no normal dog could.

John looked back. Sam and Dean were instinctively still, knowing that any movement might provoke the horrifying creature.

Suddenly, the dog turned around towards the back, jumping straight towards Sam and Dean, clawing its way over the front seat. Dean pushed Sam back toward the corner of the car, unconsciously putting himself between his brother and the creature.

Just as it was about to attack, a loud gunshot filled the air. The dog screeched as another shot was fired. It turned around quickly and went back the way it came in, out of the car, leaving a trail of blood in the white snow behind it.

John held the shining gun in his hand, still shocked by the event that had just occurred. He looked back and Sam and Dean, making sure neither boy had been injured by the dog.

Outside, the creature howled, joined by another ear piercing howl, and another. The dog wasn't alone. A storm was coming.

…TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

**Warnings: A bit of language in this chapter. Not too much though.**

**A/N: Wow. I know it's been quite awhile since I've posted. I've had about 80 done for a long time; there's just been no time to finish it. I just got done moving for the fourth time in about 10 months (hopefully this time will stick) so I have more time to sit down and write. So sorry for the long wait.**

**Also, thank you so, so, so much to everybody who reviewed. I really appreciate it and regret that I only managed to reply to a few of them. Well, on with the chapter. I hope it meets any expectations. **

Chapter 4

Sam could hear the dogs in the distance. Their ear piercing howls filled the cold, stormy night. Still, the chilling sounds did nothing to stifle the anger that Sam was feeling towards his dad. How could he have let this happen? He should be home right, or at least at the dump they called a home, studying for his test tomorrow, not in the middle of nowhere in a godforsaken car accident. Dean shouldn't be hurt the way he was. They shouldn't be there, hunted by black dogs, the very thing that they'd come to hunt.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam finally asked, breaking the unbearable silence that had been lingering since the howling faded into nothingness.

"No reason to," his dad replied in a too simple tone that annoyed Sam. 

"You don't think we had the right to know what we were driving into?"

John sighed. "I didn't plan on us getting stuck here Sam. Didn't I explain this to you already?" It sounded as though he were giving up the fight.

"That was before we heard more fucking howls, dad." Sam paused and looked to Dean, who was too quiet. "Before we were stuck here."

His dad said nothing in return. Sam looked at Dean again, noticing the sweat on his brother's face and hearing his short ragged breaths. "Dean? You ok?"

John turned around, silently asking the same question. "Dean!" He said harshly when his son hesitated.

Dean looked up. "I'm good," he replied quietly, though the look in his glassy eyes said different. Sam could see the pain in his brother's eyes and knew that his dad could too.

"You don't look good," Sam replied, waiting for a retort from Dean.

The response never came. Instead, Dean laid his head back and closed his eyes. After a moment, his breathing evened out and Sam knew his brother had slipped into a timely unconsciousness.

--------------- 

Four bullets. That was all they had left. _Four _bullets. How was he supposed to fight off the dogs without a good amount of ammunition? How was he supposed to keep his kids safe?

And the dogs weren't his only problem. John was becoming increasingly concerned with the cold weather. He knew all to well how dangerous exposure could be, especially if you were dealing with other injuries. They were all hurt and freezing. He knew that Dean's situation was dire and it wasn't doing Sam any good being stuck out there with a head wound.

After a few minutes of thought, John came to a conclusion. One that he didn't like. 

"Sam, are you sure there's absolutely _no_ way you can get out of here?" He didn't like the idea of Sam leaving the car in his condition, especially with dogs out there, but what other choice was there? There was no way in hell he was going to be able to get out and Dean needed to get to a hospital badly. They all did.

"I don't know dad," Sam replied. "The door's stuck."

"Can you get out the window somehow?" John asked, motioning towards the open window that continued to be a threshold for the cold air.

Sam looked at the shattered glass and hesitated. After a moment he spoke up. "Yeah, I can. I just need something to break the rest of this glass with."

John heard the determination in his son's voice. He could hear the need to help his brother, to get them out of there. But he could also hear the fear; the tinge of worry.

"That won't be a problem. Are you sure you can move?" John asked. "I don't need you getting hurt any worse."

"Dad, I can do it." Sam repeated, the determination in his voice growing stronger. "We've gotta get Dean out of here."

John took a deep breath, not liking the idea of sending his son into the dark where the evil sons of bitches were hiding. 

"Okay Sammy, here's the plan."

------------------ 

Sam winced in pain as his head began to throb from the extra movement. He paused for a moment, his body half way out of the window that his father had managed to break all the way, allowing him an escape from the Impala; an exit from the few short hours of pain that this mess had caused them.

"You okay son?" John asked, worry in his voice.

Sam allowed the cobwebs to clear before continuing to make his way out of the car. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Slowly, he slid the rest of his body out of the window, allowing himself to fall on the freezing cold snow. As he fell, he sunk into the soft, loosely packed white powder. No wonder the Impala was half buried in the stuff. 

Sam lifted himself up, as a small pain shot through his arm, reminding him of the bone which was more than likely broken. He held it close to himself as he yelled, "Ok, dad, I'm out."

"Good boy Sammy," John replied, as he handed Sam a small bag through the open window. "Now get to the road, but don't make too much noise. The last thing you wanna do is tip the things off because you're being too loud." Then he added, "We didn't crash too far from the rode so it's not far, but it's dark out."

"Okay."

"And Sam, remember what to do if you run into any of them."

"Don't worry dad. I've got it." Sam lifted the small metal object out of his pocket, showing his dad.

John said nothing more, just nodded to his son from inside the Impala. With that, Sam picked up the bag his dad had handed to him, turned around, and headed into the darkness.

----------------- 

The first thing Dean noticed as he slowly came back to consciousness was the absence of his little brother. He wasted no time before questioning. "Where's Sammy?"

His dad turned toward him with a worried look on his face. "Dean? How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "Where's Sam?"

His dad sighed. "He's out getting help."

"What?" Dean asked furiously. "You let him go out there? Alone?"

"Dean, Sam will be fine. The road's not far from here-"

"And neither are the dogs," he said, quietly. "You should have sent me."

His dad laughed, but it held no sign of humor. "Sorry to break it to you kiddo, but I seriously doubt you would have been able to make it to the road. You can barely stay up for more then a few minutes. And speaking of injuries, I need to know how you're doing." 

Dean was about to answer, but John cut him off. "And I want the truth. None of that 'I'm fine' crap."

In all honesty, Dean felt like shit. He could barely move without causing even more pain in his chest. He looked down at his leg, which he had managed to get uncaught, but was still bleeding. His head hurt too, not to mention just about any other part of his body. 

"I guess I'm not doing too well," he finally answered.

He heard his dad swear under his breath. "What about Sammy, dad?"

"Look Dean, Sammy should be at the road flagging down a car any minute now. He'll find someone to get us out of here. He'll be just fine. I promise."

Dean closed his eyes, wishing that there were some way for his dad to actually keep that promise. 

-----------------

Weaving between nearly unseen trees, Sam made his way slowly toward the road; more slowly than he would like. As he walked, he reached down into his pocket, pulling out the metal object from before. _'Reach into his pocket. He should have his lighter.' _Surely enough he did. Dean carried the little trinket around with him everywhere. _'The dogs don't like fire. A good flame is more effective than bullets.' _Sam kneeled down and opened his bag, pulling out a small container filled with lighter fluid and an old, grimy rag. He reached for a fallen stick a few feet from him and wrapped the rag around it. After dousing it in the fluid, he took Dean's lighter and lit the flame. Sam looked at the fire for a moment. It illuminated the metal of the lighter so Sam could see the writing engraved on it. 'Dean' it said. 'From Dad and Sam.' It was one of the few times their dad had actually put thought into a gift, let alone remember a birthday more than a day or two before it actually arrived. Sam remembered how happy Dean was when he opened it on his 18th birthday. He carried it around everywhere. He told Sam it was useful for hunts, but Sam could see right through the excuse. He smiled at the thought and suddenly became overwhelmed with worry for his brother. He needed to get to the road; needed to get him help.

Suddenly, Sam heard a sharp yelp that broke him from his thoughts. He held the lighter on the makeshift torch and watched as a bright orange flame was created, illuminating the woods around him and allowing the trees to cast eerie shadows.

When Sam heard another howl, he clutched the lighter and stood up. As he made his way toward the road again, the sounds of the beasts became increasingly louder. Had the dogs heard him? The Impala wasn't far from there. What if the things had gone back to the there where Dean lay unconscious and his dad stuck? He forced himself to push the thoughts out of his mind, making his way closer to the road. It couldn't be far now. A few hundred feet maybe.

Another sound. It was low pitched this time, a dark, growling noise. Sam turned around quickly, startled, and slipped on the wet snow, dropping the flame a few feet from him. As he fell, his head began to throb and the world around him became obscured. Then he saw them; the dogs. There were two in front of him, growling, barking, and moving towards him. On his knees, he slowly backed up toward the torch. He grabbed it, waving it at them. "Get away!" He yelled. 

The dogs backed up, fear obviously overpowering them. Sam thought he was close to getting them to turn away, when he heard more growls behind him. 

Sam backed away from the four creatures. Behind him he could hear the sound of a car on a road. It was now or never. He quickly threw the flaming branch at the dogs, making them stagger back from the bright flame. While they were distracted he dashed for the road as quickly as he could. "Hey!" he yelled a few times, trying to get the car's attention. However he made it only a few feet before another one lunged at him, jaws sinking into his leg. He screamed out in pain as it dragged him towards the rest of the group. 

Sam struggled to get away, but the dog was too strong and the pain in his leg and pressure in his head was making it too hard to think straight. Sam held Dean's lighter more tightly in his hand, still struggling against his demonic captor. 

Just as Sam believed the end was coming, a shot rang out. It echoed loudly through the forest and in his ears. Another shot was fired and the dog released its hold on him. 

Everything was silent for a moment. He hadn't expected his dad to come. Relieved, he lay back in the soft snow, feeling the pull of unconsciousness. 

"Sammy!" He heard a voice call out. But it wasn't his dad's. It was Dean's. 

"Dean?" Sam asked, not believing that it was really his brother. However as the form staggered slowly toward him, he knew that it really was Dean.

"God Sammy, leave it to you to get attacked by a bunch of hungry mutts," Dean said, kneeling next to his Sam.

"Dean, what are you doing here?" Sam asked. He could see the condition Dean was in. He looked about the same as he did while in the Impala, just not unconscious.

Dean smiled. "I'm here to save your sorry ass," he replied. Sam watched as his brother looked down, examining the bite on his leg, putting a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Lucky for you the damn things aren't poisonous."

"Yeah, lucky me." Sam said as he began to sit up straight.

"That looks like it hurts," Dean said, helping his brother. "Think you can walk with a little help?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Dean attempted get up in order to get his brother standing, but his strength faltered and he fell back to his knees. "Dean, are you ok?" Sam asked, worried.

"Yeah, I'll be ok kiddo," was the expected answer.

By the sound of Dean's voice and the look on his face, Sam could tell that he was in a lot of pain. "There's no way you're gonna be able to help me walk out of here. You can't even stand on your own. You shouldn't even-"

Sam's sentence was cut short. He was going to ask why their dad had allowed Dean to come out there when just a few minutes ago he wasn't even consciousness. He wanted to know why the hell their dad hadn't realized sending Dean out there could kill him.

But Sam could say nothing more as Dean pushed him down, putting himself between him and a black dog jumping straight toward them.

TBC…

* * *

Reviews are always greatly appreciated. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own them.**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

**Warnings: Again, a small bit of language.**

**A/N: Thanks again for those of you reading and for all of the awesome reviews.**

**Also, I don't know why, but for some reason whenever I post a new chapter my page breaks get deleted. I didn't notice it until now, so I changed the way I did the breaks. So, sorry if there was any confusion in previous chapters becuase of lack of the page breaks. I hope I have it fixed now!**

Chapter 5

"_What about Sammy, dad?"_

"_Look Dean, Sammy should be at the road flagging down a car any minute now. He'll find someone to get us out of here. He'll be just fine. I promise." _

Each minute that ticked away waiting for a sign that Sam was okay felt like hours. Dean wasn't sure exactly how long they'd been waiting. Only that he was getting tired of it.

Dean thought of the promise his dad had made. _'He'll be fine. I promise.' _He'd wanted to tell his dad what a liar he was; wanted to tell him that there was no way he could know Sam was alright. He wanted to tell him that he had never kept a single fucking promise to him in his life, so how was his promise that Sammy would be okay supposed to make him feel better?

But of course he said nothing. He'd been in the middle of a few too many of Sam and his dad's fights. Needless to say, the last thing he wanted to do was argue with his dad; especially right now.

Dean was about to close his eyes; was about to give in to the sweet pull of sleep. Just as his eyes were nearly closed, he heard them. He heard the barking of the black dogs not too far in the distance. _Sam._

Dean looked toward his dad and saw the look of attention and worry on his face. "Dad?" Dean asked worriedly.

His dad was quiet for another moment, listening. After a few seconds, he responded to his worried son. "He's fine Dean. He knows what to do."

Dean didn't buy it. And as the minutes passed and still there was no sign of Sam, he knew what he had to do.

"Dad, I'm going to find Sam," Dean said, knowing how his dad would react.

"No, you're not," he told Dean. "You're in no condition to be leaving."

"Dad, I've gotta go. You heard the dogs, he might be in trouble," Dean replied. "You're stuck. I can get out."

"Dean, not even an hour ago you could hardly stay awake. I already told you. Sam will be fine. He knows what to do."

His dad gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. He knew that his dad would do anything to help Sam; he would be out there now if it were possible. But Dean also knew that his dad wouldn't let him out of the car. Even he had to admit it: he wasn't in good shape. Still, this was Sam. This was his little brother that could be in danger. Dean had to do something.

And as Dean heard another howl, he quickly got up, struggling, ignoring the intense pain that came from the movement. Ignoring his father's harsh 'Dean don't you dare,' he crawled out of his completely broken window and out into the cold snow.

SNSNSNSNSN

The dog lunged straight towards them baring its jaw, teeth gleaming in the little bit of light that shone through the clouds. Sam could feel the coldness of the dog; the evil of the beast. He could think of nothing to do as his brother pushed him down, allowing himself to be between him and the dog.

"Sam, get down!" Dean yelled.

As he was pushed roughly to the ground Sam looked to the side, spotting Dean's gun. Before he could even think about it, Sam reached in front of his brother, shooting right at the creature.

Suddenly, all the cold that he felt left his body. The dog staggered back, away from them. As it did, it fell to the snowy earth and in a small burst, turned into a dark gray dust that blew away with the gentle breeze.

For the moment, all was quiet. Sam lay there on the cold ground. The dog hadn't gotten to him, thanks to Dean, but he was feeling the affects of his previous injuries. His head continued to throb, even more so with the addition of the pain in his leg.

To Sam's side was his brother, slowly struggling to get up. "Dean?" he finally asked, slowly recovering from the shock of what had just happened.

Dean looked towards Sam, giving a small grin. "Thank god for silver bullets, huh Sammy?" was all that he said.

Sam smiled. "I guess dad knew what he was doing after all," he offered. At the mention of their father, the questions of exactly why Dean was there came back to mind. He felt a sudden surge of anger, but managed to push the feeling back as he observed his brother. Dean was kneeling now, still attempting to get up. He was breathing raggedly, reminding Sam of his condition back in the Impala. His face looked pale in the moonlight, a sheen of sweat over his brow.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam said worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It didn't get me," Dean replied. "How's that leg? We've gotta get out of here before its buddies come back."

"I think I'll manage," Sam told him.

"Good, let's get going."

"Are we going to the road?"

Dean frowned. "No," he said. "Look Sam," he began, noticing the disappointed look on his brother's face. "There're no cars. Dad turned down this road because it was quiet. It was some place away from anyone else. It'd be too risky waiting by the road for someone to come by and we sure as hell can't walk to get help right now."

Sam wanted to disagree; wanted to explain to Dean that he couldn't give up. He'd already failed once at getting them help and he couldn't pass up the opportunity again.

However, Sam said nothing. What Dean said was true. He got up slowly, nearly stumbling as vertigo threatened to bring him down. Finally managing to stand upright, he took Dean's hand and quickly helped him up.

As they began to walk, Sam beckoned for them to stop. "Hang on," he said. He ran back to where they had fallen, grabbing Dean's small metal lighter. He remembered holding onto the small object as the dog was attacking him; as he thought he was going to die. He remembered the feeling of letting his dad and brother down. He'd failed to get them help. He would be gone and the two of them would be left to slowly fade away in the cold. Sam put the lighter in his pocket, still hating the fact that he hadn't to get help, and went back to his brother's side.

Together, the two boys slowly made their way back to the Impala, listening to the faint howling behind them.

SNSNSNSNSN

It began to rain again. The cold drops of water found their way into the Impala, dampening the upholstery.

John stared into the darkness, past the cracked glass and the twisted heap of metal. He stared at the trees, into the woods, waiting for some sign that his sons were okay. He wanted to believe that any minute he would hear sirens. He wanted to believe that help would be there to end this nightmare.

John sighed in frustration. He needed to get out of the car. He needed to get to his boys. John put his hand against the door, pushing with all of his strength the way he had when they had first crashed. He pushed and pulled as long as he could; still it was no use.

John hated feeling useless. And that's exactly what he was right now. He was the one who'd gotten them all into this mess and now he was useless to help them out of it.

The last time John had felt this useless was the night Mary was killed. He remembered staring up at her on the ceiling, burning to death over his baby's crib. He remembered looking into her eyes and seeing the pain and fear. He hadn't been able to save her then, just like he couldn't save his boys now.

John closed his eyes. Each minute that went by felt like an hour. The waiting was killing him.

Finally, glaring out into the dark forest, he saw the vague silhouettes of his boys in the distance. He let a long breath out as he saw them walking toward the Impala.

However, as they got closer, John could see that the two were progressing very slowly, both leaning on each other. The rain had picked up; thunder could now be heard in the distance, and both boys were starting to get wet. In the small bit of moonlight he could see fresh blood on Sam's leg, a new wound appearing beneath his ripped jeans. It looked bad, but at least he was walking. Dean looked the same as he had when he left the car bruised and broken and not fit to be walking. John silently cursed himself for allowing his boys to even be in this situation.

The two finally made it to the car, collapsing in the soft snow. "You two okay? What happened?"

Sam, looking angry, opened his mouth to speak, but Dean interrupted him. "One of them…attacked us…" Dean began to explain. John noticed that his son sounded exhausted and was out of breath, sounding much the way he had when he'd first woken up in the car. "Thanks to your silver bullets," he added.

John was thankful that they'd at least managed to kill the dog that was attacking them. Things could have been so much worse. "Get out of the rain before you freeze to death," John ordered, ignoring the 'could have beens'.

"It won't do us much good," Sam said, anger lacing his voice. He slowly crawled into the car, situating himself in the back.

Dean handed his dad the gun, as he slowly followed his brother in through the open window. John gave Dean an old looking rag that he'd found lying around.

"Use those to put pressure on Sam's wound," he told them. He watched as they did as they were told. "What the hell happened out there?" he asked.

Sam looked up, his face holding the same outraged look that John had seen too may times before. "The fucking dog attacked me before I could get to the road," he answered.

"It's okay son," John offered. "At least you're safe."

"Why the hell did you let Dean go out there?" Sam asked suddenly and harshly.

"Sammy, chill out," Dean spoke up. "Dad didn't-"

"Some fucking kind of father you are," Sam added, cutting him off. "First you drag us out here to the middle of nowhere, lie to us about the black dogs, then let Dean leave the car when he's barely conscious."

"That's enough!" John yelled louder than he'd meant to. "I'm sick of your attitude. Do you seriously think that I meant for all of this to happen?"

"No," Sam said. "But this all could have been prevented if you'd have just done what was best for me and Dean. We could have been at that dump you called a home back where we were actually starting to have a life. But of course we had to do what _you _wanted for your own fucking selfish reasons."

John had heard Sam's argument too many times. He knew exactly where it was going. However, this time he knew that Sam was right. If he were doing what was best for him and Dean, they _would _be back home. The boys would be safe.

But John wouldn't let Sam know that. "Sam, I swear, if you don't-"

"What?" Sam interrupted. "If I don't stop speaking my mind and telling you the damn truth? What'll you do? Punish me? We're in the middle of fucking nowhere dad! You can't make me do extra drills right now can you?"

"Damn it Sam, I'm fucking tired of you acting like you can talk to me however the hell you want! I'm your father-"

"So I've heard. That's what you always say. 'I'm your father Sam,' but look at Dean. Look at where your parenting had gotten us; gotten him."

As if on queue, Dean began to cough violently. John realized for the first time how quiet his son had been during their argument. He hadn't even realized Dean was still there. And now there was something wrong. Sam was right about one thing. He was doing a horrible job at parenting right now.

"Dean?" Sam asked, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dad!"

John watched as Dean continued to cough. To his horror, he saw small bit of blood flow from his mouth and down his face.

"Sam, hold him steady!" John told Sam sharply.

Sam held onto Dean now, a look a fear replacing the anger.

John didn't know what to do. There was no way out; no where to go; to one to help. All he could do was sit there, as he watched his son begin to convulse.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

**A/N: A friend of mine who lives in Italy invited me to stay with her for three weeks, so of course I jumped at the opportunity. I had an amazing time. It was absolutely beautiful there. We spent a lot of time in Rome and other neighboring cities. It was so much fun. **

**Anyway, I know I'm not the best at updating and taking a trip out of country just adds to the wait time. But it's back and I really hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

**Chapter 6**

"_Sam, hold him steady!" John told Sam sharply._

Sam listened to his dad, putting all of his angry feelings aside for the moment. He held Dean in his arms, trying to keep him steady. "Dad, what do we do?" he asked frantically.

For the first time in his life, Sam saw a helpless look on his father's face. He said nothing to Sam; no response to his desperate question.

"Dad!" Sam yelled again.

"He needs a hospital," was his only response.

Sam was about to tell him how fucking obvious that was, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Dean stopped shaking. He coughed a few times, before becoming completely still.

"Sam, check his pulse," John ordered.

Sam put his fingers to his brother's neck, feeling the unsteady beat. "It's really quick," he reported. "And it's kind of uneven."

"Damn."

Sam was overwhelmed. Here is brother lay, maybe inches from death, and neither he nor his dad could do anything. It was the worst feeling he'd felt in a long time; worse than the anger and frustration he'd felt for his dad just moments ago.

The car was quiet for a few minutes, neither conscious Winchester sure of what to do, when a sudden howling filled the air. Sam got the same bone chilling sensation he'd had earlier when facing the black dogs.

Sam looked down at Dean, still lying motionless in his arms. "Dad…"

"Quiet," John whispered sharply. "We can't let them know we're here."

Sam was silent. He could hear the subtle growling of the unseen assailants. The growling grew louder, and Sam knew that they were coming closer. He only hoped their position hadn't been made.

After a few moments the growling subsided and the creatures could no longer be heard. Sam let out a breath and allowed himself to relax.

"What…" Sam didn't have time to finish his thought as the dogs began barking wildly, running toward the Impala.

John looked franticly for the gun. He glanced down and saw that it had been discarded on the floor. He reached for it, not believing that he would reach it in time.

Just as the dog was about to make its way into the car, the high-pitched screech of sirens filled the air. As the noise sounded, the black dog stopped, looked toward the source of the sound, and ran back into the dark forest.

The moment Sam saw the paramedics rushing toward them he let out a sigh of relief. They had come just in time; just before they were about to meet certain death. The silhouetted forms of their saviors stood out in the bright red, yellow and blue lights.

SNSNSNSN

From the moment the ambulance had arrived everything was a blur. John remembered the Impala being cut open effortlessly, allowing their rescuers to easily get to them. He remembered his boys being pulled out of the car, Sam being looked over and Dean being strapped to a stretcher immediately. Then the paramedics came for him.

John remembered the ride to the hospital too. His sons were in sepa;/'rate vehicles. Nobody knew how they were at present. He'd asked how they knew to find them. Apparently a couple driving by had seen a dark figure running toward the street. They'd slowed down, but the figure had gone. Then they heard strange barking and growling, followed by a scream. They'd called 911 to report the strange happenings. John silently thanked the unknown couple.

John rode in silence the rest of the way to the hospital.

SNSNSNSN

Needless to say, Sam was not happy. But John expected that. He knew the second they got to the hospital he would be demanding to see his brother, even though he was in need of medical attention himself.

John had been looked over, being diagnosed with a moderate concussion. He would have to be watched for twenty four hours, but that was no problem; he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Instead, he sat in Sam's hospital room, listening to him complain. The teen was currently hooked up to an I.V. and another beeping monitor for a use John knew nothing about. His son looked like hell. He had numerous stitches on his head, a mere reminder of the concussion that he too held. He also had a cast around his arm and on his leg where the "wolf" had bitten him.

As for Dean's condition, John was having a hard time figuring out. The doctors wouldn't tell him a damn thing. After yelling at the receptionists, gaining nervous glances from various onlookers, he'd managed to finally get their attention and the promise that a doctor would be out to speak with him in the next few minutes if he would just go and wait patiently.

John went back into Sam's room. After what was more like an hour than the few minutes promised, the door opened. "Mr. Winchester?" a voice called out.

John and Sam both shot their gazes toward the voice. There stood a doctor with an uneasy expression.

John quickly got up while Sam sat attentively in his bed.

"Yeah," John said.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Simmons. We've managed to stabilize your son for the time being. We're prepping him for surgery now," he began. "Dean's suffered a collapsed lung, as well as various other inner contusions."

John's face faltered. "So what does that mean?" he asked.

"Well, a collapsed lung has different levels of severity," Dr. Simmons explained. "In some cases they can simply heal themselves."

"But?" John asked, knowing that nothing were ever that simple.

"But," the doctor continued. "In Dean's case surgery is going to be necessary to repair the lung."

John sighed. "Is it dangerous?"

The doctor glanced toward Sam. "Maybe we should step outside," he said.

John looked back at Sam and then nodded. He followed the doctor into the hall, ignoring Sam's annoyed protests.

"Mr. Winchester, while the surgery has its risks, it's simple enough. Most people pull out of it just fine," the doctor began. "But what really have us worried are the internal contusions. In its weakened state, it's going to be harder for Dean's body to undergo the necessary surgery."

John didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Go ahead and perform a life threatening surgery on his son?

"Right now he's in critical condition. Ideally we'd like to wait until the patient is more stable, but in Dean's case action has to be taken quickly," Dr. Simmons continued. "I just need you to understand that there are serious risks. He'll need to be on a ventilator and we'll have a crash cart waiting."

John closed his eyes and then nodded. "Can I see him first? Sam too?"

The doctor nodded. "Of course," he said. "But it'll have to be brief."

John turned around, preparing himself to tell Sam the bad news.

SNSNSNSN

Sam was wheeled into his brother's room by one of the nurses. His father was already there, silently sitting beside Dean. As he got closer, he saw an unfamiliar distressed look on his dad's face. When he looked at Dean, he knew why. His brother lay motionless in the hospital bed, attached to a ventilator. Sam noticed the various scratches and bruises on Dean, which stood out against his too pale skin. It didn't look like his big brother. It couldn't be the strong, cocky Dean that he knew.

Sam laid his hand on Dean's, careful of the various wires connected to him. He couldn't help but think of how avoidable all of this would have been; how unfair it was that Dean was the one hurt in this epic mess. Sam wished that he were the one lying there, not his brother. It was his fault that he was arguing with their dad. _His_ fault that the two of them had been too busy fighting to know how seriously injured Dean was.

As he listened to the monitors beep, Sam withdrew his hand and focused on Dean's metal lighter that he'd brought with him. He held it for a minute, turning over unconsciously in his hand.

"You shouldn't have come to get me out there," Sam said suddenly, angrily. "You should have left me. You know what the doctor said?" Sam told his unconscious brother, recalling some of the doctor's words. "All that moving around made your condition worse."

Sam looked at Dean who had still yet to move. "You're a self-sacrificing bastard, you know that?"

The monitors beeped and Sam's eyes began to water.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking down. "This is all my fault."

"Sam," a voice said from behind him. It was his dad. "They've gotta take Dean in for surgery now."

Sam nodded. He looked back at his brother, giving his hand a small squeeze. "Just make it through this, ok? I need you." He turned and began to leave, tears still dripping down his face.

"We both need you Dean," John said, resting his hand on his son's head for a moment.

A few nurses surrounded Dean's bed, preparing to take him away.

SNSNSNSN

John sat with Sam, who'd been ordered to return to his bed. He'd been up since Dean went into surgery and was starting to feel the effects of the strain on his body.

When the procedure was finished, Sam had wanted to go see him, however the doctors wouldn't allow it. They'd explained that Dean was still in a critical condition and that Sam would be too if he didn't get some rest. John agreed.

The two Winchesters sat in silence under the dim light of the shadowy hospital room. After awhile, Sam finally spoke up. "It's my fault he's in there."

John noticed how young Sam sounded; much younger than his fifteen years. "Sam, you have no reason to feel guilty. If it's anyone's fault it's mine," he comforted. He believed that whole heartedly. Then he added, "You didn't seem to have a problem believing that earlier."

Sam frowned. "Dad, I didn't-"

"Don't worry about it Sam," John cut him off. "Now get some sleep."

"But I was arguing with you and…"

"It was dark out. The weather was bad," John said. "I wasn't paying enough attention to the road."

Sam sighed. John knew he was finally giving in when his eyes slowly began to close. "How's Dean?" he asked quietly.

"I checked on him a little while ago. He's out of surgery. The doctors say there's not much else they can do right now but wait and see if he improves." It felt strange for John to explain that to Sam; talking about his son's condition made it too real.

"I wanna see him," he said.

John smiled. He didn't think Sam would ever stop worrying. "I'll go check on him."

"Will you come back and tell me how he's doing?"

"Of course."

"'Kay," Sam said almost in a whisper as he drifted off to sleep.

John got up and headed toward Dean's room.

SNSNSNSN

John made his way through the beige hallway, stopping only to buy a cup of a poor excuse for coffee. He made his way past several abandoned I.V. poles and wheelchairs. He was only a couple hundred feet from his destination when he heard the frantic shouts.

"Get a crash cart to room 313!" a voice yelled.

_Shit._ That was Dean's room. John quickly discarded his coffee on a nearby counter and ran the rest of the way there. He stopped in the doorway and watched in horror as several doctors surrounded his son, one of them attempting to shock him back to life.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

Chapter 7

Everything was dark. Sam couldn't see anything at all. It was as though his eyes were closed, but to his great displeasure they were not. There was just a dark void filling the world around him; filling space where light should reside. Suddenly, Sam saw an image in the distance. It was blurry at first, but as a few moments went by, the scene before him became vibrant and flawless. He was lying in a hospital room, a number of doctors in white coats and scrubs rushing around him. He couldn't hear their voices, nor could he speak. He attempted to reach out, but to his horror his arm remained immoveable. Sam lay there helplessly, unable to move or speak.

Suddenly the world lit up around him, a light so bright filling the room that he could no longer see the distressed faces, or anything in the room for that matter. For one heart-stopping moment he wished the darkness would come back. The light faded and Sam could once again see the faces of those around him. Still unable to hear, he watched one of the doctor's mouths move as if giving a command. The doctor brought two dull gray paddles down toward him and once again the bright light blinded Sam.

The light filled the room two or three more times, before the scene before him began to fade away and again Sam's world was filled with darkness.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he jerked himself painfully up to a sitting position. He looked around, half expecting the room to be filled with the shocked expressions of the doctors who had been surrounding him, but found the room completely empty; completely silent except for a quietly beeping monitor to his left.

Sam looked around wildly, wondering what had just happened, when sudden realization dawned on him. "_Dean_," he said quietly as he pulled the wires off of his body and made quickly for the door.

SNSNSNSNSN

The doctors had worked on his son for ten minutes; ten minutes that seemed longer than any other ten minutes he'd ever lived through; ten minutes that he wasn't sure his boy would live through.

But he did.

John felt bad for even doubting that he would. This was Dean they were talking about, after all. Dean wouldn't leave them behind. It was as simple as that.

The doctors had reverently explained to John what had happened, apologetic looks on their faces the whole time. John, not caring so much about _why_ his son had nearly died, but more about whether they had fixed it and were going to make goddamn sure it didn't happen again, only listened half-heartedly to their excuses. 'Blood pressure bottomed out,' they'd said. 'Very difficult to have caught.' But the only words John cared about were the ones that told him 'now that they've caught the problem and given he responds to treatment, Dean should be up and around soon.'

When the doctors allowed, John went slowly and quietly into Dean's room. There were still a few nurses lingering around, picking up what was left from the previous incident. There was a mass of loose wires and machines lying near Dean's bed, but that didn't stop John from entering. He stood in near the entrance for a moment, waiting for the mess to be cleared so that he could be left alone with his son.

As the last person cleared out, an older woman who passed John an unwanted sympathetic look, he went to Dean's side and sat down.

He sat there in silence for a few minutes, which felt like an hour. He began to wonder if time really were slowing down. He simply sat there, watching air being pumped into Dean. He sat there and watched, until his eyes began to water and he could no longer help himself.

"I'm so, so sorry, son," he told Dean, though he knew he could not be heard. "This has all been such a fucking mess." He paused. "I'm so sorry," he said again, gripping his son's hand, mindful of the wires attached to it.

Again John was quiet. He was quiet, glad for a moment that time had slowed down.

A door behind John opened and a man rushed in. "Mr. Winchester?" He asked frantically. John stood up quickly, just a little bit startled, and nodded. "There's a problem with your other son."

John's heart stopped for a moment, but continued when he caught sight of Sam walking through the hall toward Dean's room. Behind him were a few orderlies, desperately trying to stop him. '…should be in bed,' they said and, 'unhealthy for you….' John only managed to catch a few words of what they were saying, but he was able to put the pieces together and come to an understanding.

He moved quickly toward his son. "Sam!" he nearly yelled. "What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

"Dad," Sam began frantically. "They were doing something to Dean. Where is he? Is he alright?"

Looking up at the doctors and receiving numerous understanding looks, John took Sam by the arm and led him toward a nearby waiting room, away from the doctors and nurses, away from everybody. He made his son sit down and took the seat next to him.

John looked at Sam. He hated the way his son looked so hurt and so young; hated the disappointed and accusing look coming his way.

"Sam, Dean's fine-"

"No, he's not!" Sam cut in. "They were doing something to him! He's sick or hurt worse or something," he yelled, apparently not caring if anybody could hear him.

"Sam, calm down-"

"Stop treating me like a kid and tell me the goddamn truth!"

John paused. The look of disappointment that he'd recognized on Sam's face seemed to fade away, and now all that John could see was strength and determination. He saw how strong Sam was; the boy looked exhausted, but was still there, unwilling to rest until he knew how his brother was doing. He was determined to know that Dean was okay. Then again, John thought, Sam has always been strong. He'd always faced the world, his bastard of a father included, with such a willful strength and unfaltering determination. John had always been proud of him; but after tonight, he had never been more so.

So, the truth it was; no more lies.

"The doctors had to shock Dean back to life. Don't ask me to tell you exactly why, because I honestly don't know," he explained. "But they fixed him. He's gonna be fine."

Sam looked down. "I knew he was in trouble."

"Of course you knew," John began. "Sam, I just wanna tell you how proud I am of the way you handled things tonight. The way you helped save Dean; the way you helped save all of us. I've never been more proud of you. Your strength tonight-"

"Dean's the strong one, dad," Sam interrupted, not looking up. "He's the one always getting me out of trouble."

John thought for a moment. It was true. Dean was usually the one taking charge on a hunt. Sam was more reserved in a lot of ways. But that didn't make him any less powerful. "You and Dean are _both_ strong," he finally said. "Just in different ways. When it comes down to it, you'll always use what strength you have. And let me tell you, you're stronger than most men that I know."

John knew that to be true. "Who else would willingly stand up to John Winchester," he asked through a smile.

With this, John reached out and pulled his son into a hug. Sam must have been surprised at first, but then the boy leaned into the hug, putting his arms around his father for the first time in a long while.

"I'm so sorry Sam," John said very quietly. "For everything." And he was.

"I'm sorry too, dad."

The two of them silently made their way to Dean's room, despite the doctors' suggestions.

* * *

TBC…

Chapter 8/epilogue coming soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: The Calm Before the Storm**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

**Timeline: Pre-series. Sam 15, Dean 19**

**Warnings: A bit of language.**

**A/N: Wow. So, it's been about a year since I last updated this. I really have no excuse. No excuse at all. Except maybe that life is unpredictable and sometimes we have to take breaks from doing the things that we love. But, I've finally written another chapter. Also, when I wrote the last chapter, I thought that the next one would finish up the story. Well, I was wrong. One more chapter to come after this. Enjoy! **

SNSNSNSNSN

"_I'm so sorry Sam," John said very quietly. "For everything." And he was._

"_I'm sorry too, dad." _

_The two of them silently made their way to Dean's room, despite the doctors' suggestions. _

Chapter 8

He'd heard about this feeling somewhere. What was it called? It was hard to remember.

Suspended animation.

That was it. Maybe he'd heard about it on TV. Maybe Sammy the geek boy had told him about it.

That didn't really matter though. Because now he _felt _it. And hearing about it sure as hell didn't compare to actually _feeling _it.

Dean was trapped. He could hear what was going on around him. He could even see from time to time, although it was usually just blurred visions of lights that were way too bright, or some nurse that had come in to make sure he was still alive or whatever the hell else they did.

But he couldn't talk to them, couldn't move to protest. He couldn't tell them to back off with whatever giant needle they had or push their hand away as they made a fuss over him.

He just wanted them to leave him alone.

And most of all, he wanted to see Sammy and Dad. He wanted to make sure they were okay.

But how could he do that when he was frozen in his own body, stuck here in some bed, hooked up to god knew how many machines, which were for god knew what?

And so he waited. He waited to hear Sammy's voice, to make sure he was okay. He wouldn't be saved from this hell until he knew his little brother was alright.

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Sam couldn't help but take in a quick breath of shock as he walked into his brother's room. The sight of Dean left him in a state of disbelief. He looked up at his dad. He had an empty sort of stare on his face, one that Sam could understand completely.

Dean lay in the bed, completely unmoving, hooked up to a hundred nameless machines. But that wasn't what had scared him so much.

Sam limped closer to Dean's bedside, relying heavily on a crutch a nurse had brought in for him. His brother was pale, looking as though all the blood had been drained from his body. The scratches and bruises were to be expected, but that didn't stop him from studying each one, wondering which would be new scars on his brother's young skin and which would fade away, no longer a reminder of this horrific event.

Dad came up behind him, a heavy hand on his shoulder giving him the slightest bit of comfort it could.

Sam, in turn, put his own hand on Dean's. It was cold to the touch and Sam shuddered.

Having surely felt his shiver, dad spoke. "The doctors say he should be fine…given some rest and a little time."

Sam didn't respond. He just gripped his brother's hand.

"You should be in bed."

Same looked up, his eyes welling with tears. "I'm fine. I just wanna be sure he is too."

Dad sighed. "Alright. I don't see any harm in letting you rest up in here," he said. "But I'm gonna have a hell of a time convincing those damn Nazi nurses to let you stay."

It was going to be a long night.

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John sat outside Dean's room drinking a cup of day old coffee. He'd managed to find a kindly young nurse and charm her into letting Sammy stay in Dean's room for awhile; after she checked the boy over and decided he was in no immediate danger of course. She'd checked John over after Sam and allowed him to stay out of bed as well, assured of his current health.

"You and your boys were very lucky," the woman told him.

John nearly laughed at the understatement. "Yeah," he smiled.

"Sam seems like a nice boy. I'd really like it if he stayed in bed, but he seems determined to stay with your other son."

John just smiled.

"He can stay until my shift's over. Then you'll have to take it up with whoever's scheduled after me."

"Thank you again," John told her. "You have no idea how much this means."

The nurse smiled before turning to leave.

John, alone now, looked inside the partly cracked door. Sam was asleep on the chair next to Dean's bed, looking entirely uncomfortable. But John knew his son wouldn't have it any other way.

Now that he could relax, John's mind went in a thousand different directions. The accident, the dogs, his boys hurt…The doctors assured him over and over again that both of his sons would be fine. Sammy would be released after a routine twenty-four hour stay. Dean, on the other hand, would be going nowhere soon.

Hell, his son had almost died. _Had_ died, until the doctors shocked him back to life. He hoped, _prayed_, he would never have to watch anything like that ever again.

He wasn't surprised when the doctors told him that Dean's stay would be a lengthy one. The boy had a lot of healing to do.

John looked up at the clock on the plain taupe hospital wall. 5:00 am. He hadn't slept a wink.

He could have gone back into his room and rested a few hours. Sam should be out for awhile and Dean was medicated so strongly that he'd probably be asleep for the majority of the day. But he just couldn't bring himself to rest.

God, he'd screwed up. The boys were in this mess because of him. There was no doubt about it. For years he'd been having the same argument over and over again, not only with Sam, but with himself.

John stood up and walked into the hospital room. Quietly, he took a light blanket provided by the nurses and covered Sam, bending down to kiss his son on the head.

Next he walked over to Dean. He ran a hand through his boy's hair, before gently kissing him on the head as well. John turned to leave the room, but stopped.

"I'm sorry boys. God, I'm so, so sorry."

John signed himself out of the hospital, and called a cab. His first destination was the impound lot where the destroyed Impala had been towed. He claimed ownership, arranged to pick it up at a later date, and quickly removed what he needed from the trunk. Then, with his weapon hidden slyly in his large coat pocket, he took the cab to his second destination:

The sight of the crash.

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The lights were so god damned bright. He squinted, looking past the blurriness and at his surroundings. For a moment he thought he was stuck; he remembered a strange sensation, that of being trapped in his own body. He didn't know if that feeling had been real or a nightmare. But whether or not it had really occurred, he was free now, able to move, able to see, despite the fact that everything seemed to be moving quickly in a dizzying blur.

The first thing Dean noticed, was the throbbing headache and pain that had probably been dulled by some medication or another. He was slightly nauseous, but for the time being it was all bearable.

The second thing he noticed was the sight of a discarded blanket hung loosely over a chair next to his bed. He looked around, careful not to jar his body too much, but saw nobody. That's when he heard it.

"He what? Why the hell-"came a pleasingly familiar voice from outside the hospital room.

"Try to calm down-"

"No, this is fucking ridiculous! His son is lying in that room…"

"Honey, if you don't calm down I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"I need to use a phone."

It seemed like a long time before Sam entered the room loudly, obviously in a fit of rage.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, slightly unnerved by the weak sound of his voice.

Sam looked up, startled. "Dean! You're awake!" He rushed over to his brother.

"Really, Einstein?" Dean attempted to bring about some normality, although it didn't seem entirely likely that he would be successful.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" the kid asked frantically. "I'll call someone."

Sam reached up to hit the call button, but Dean put a hand on his wrist, stopping him.

"Hold up…just a second," Dean said tiredly and out of breath.

Sam sat down, moving his seat closer to his brother's bed. "What's wrong Dean?"

"Nothing…I just wanna…make sure…you're okay."

"I'm fine. I really think we should call-"

"Where's dad?"

"Dean I really think-"

"_Sam_. Where's dad?"

Sam frowned. He waited a minute, as though considering whether or not to let Dean in on whatever secret he had.

"Come on Sammy," Dean encouraged. "You know you…could never keep a…secret from me."

Sam hesitated for another moment, then his eyes turned dark, his face angry. "He's gone. He checked himself out of the hospital."

"So he's…okay then."

Sam laughed a disbelieving laugh. "Yes, Dean, he's fine. He's fine enough that he went after those god damn dogs!"

"You don't-"

"Yes, I do know. I called the junk yard the Impala was hauled off to. He took a cab there, got some stuff out of the truck, then headed west on the highway. The same highway we were taking when we crashed."

Dean frowned. God, how could the man have done that? He'd left Sam there alone to worry and take care of things. And he hadn't even told him he was leaving.

For a moment, Dean felt intense anger for him; it was more anger than he'd ever felt toward his father. He started to get up, but Sam put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Dean…"

Dean looked at Sam. He felt a wave of strong admiration for him. He'd saved their lives; not just tonight, but on other occasions as well. His little brother was good and strong and willful in every way possible. But looking at him now, he could see the kid's exhaustion. Exhaustion from worry, from anger, and, also, no doubt from his own injuries.

But he still held strong.

"Sam, have I…ever told you how…" he paused to catch his breath. "How…proud I am of you?"

Sam stared at Dean for a moment, the anger in his face fading slightly. Dean could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile. "Yeah Dean," he said, rolling his eyes. "All the time."

"Well…I mean it every…every time."

Somewhere, miles away, an evil dog growled, a gunshot fired, and the night was still once again.

TBC…and I promise this time, I won't make you wait a year ;)


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